


Death

by Selana



Category: Highlander: The Series, True Blood
Genre: Crossover, Death References, Immortals, Other, Vampires, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selana/pseuds/Selana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a vampire meets an Immortal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death

Methos stared at the blood smeared, half naked boy he had discovered in the only stone house of the little town they had destroyed. The boy seemed unharmed, despite the blood on his face, hands and bare chest. He wore nothing but few rags around his hips and there were strange tattoos winding across his shoulders and collarbones. He looked nothing like the local people, his skin was way too pale, almost translucent - it would burn in the sun within a few minutes. The boy didn't seem to be afraid of him or his sword, he just stood at the far end of the room and stared back at Methos.

"Who are you?" Methos asked.

The boy smiled. "I'm Death." he answered in a sweet tone of voice.

"Interesting, that's what they call me as well." Methos' smile didn't reach his eyes and he gripped his sword tighter. Something about this boy made his skin crawl. For a second he though about calling out to his friends, but then he remembered that they were already on the way back to their camp. He had stayed back to see if there was anything of worth in this building.

Without making a sound the boy sprang into motion, went from standing still to rushing towards Methos in the blink of an eye. Even his well trained reflexes didn't help him, the boy moved almost too fast to be seen - and before he could even lift his sword properly to defend himself, Methos was pressed against a wall. His hands were held in a strong grip, the small, lithe body of the boy holding him immobile with unexpected strength.

Methos struggled, but he couldn't move away from the wall, couldn't even push his hands off the wall at all. He was pinned down, completely helpless, as the boy was pressing against him from his toes up to his chest. He looked down, into cold predatory eyes – a shiver ran down his back. The boy’s grin morphed into a snarl, fangs appeared in his mouth, he licked once up Methos’ neck and then bit, hard.

Methos’ thoughts raced, what was going on here? He didn’t want to die, he hated to die. But he couldn't focus, couldn't think clearly, didn't even try to fight any more. There was just one thought running through his mind, over and over again. _'Vampire, he's a vampire, but vampires don't exist, they can't exist. But he IS a vampire...'_ He felt light headed now from the loss of blood, knew it wouldn't be long until he'd lose consciousness.

As suddenly as he'd started the boy – no, vampire - stopped to drink. He looked up at Methos, surprise on his face. "What are you?" he asked in a language that was long since dead.

"Nothing, a man." Methos answered in the same language without even noticing.

"Just a man? Then why has my bite already healed?” The vampire tilted his head to examine Methos’ neck closely. “You are so much more, your blood is so powerful." The vampire’s eyes were sparkling now and he grinned with delight. "Whoever you are, you must have lived for a long time when you speak the language of my childhood. Perhaps even longer than I lived, that's interesting." He licked the last of the blood from Methos' neck and looked at the now unblemished skin where he had bitten. "I wonder what else you recover from..."

Methos didn't answer. The last thing he needed was a vampire keeping him as continuous blood supply, he couldn't let him find out that he'd revive if killed by blood loss - and he certainly couldn't risk the vampire finding out how to permanently kill him. As much as he hated to die and come back to life, he had to talk the vampire into killing him. And the hope that he'd be alone when he revived.

He stopped to fight against the immovable body holding him to the wall, tilted his head back as far as the wall allowed and said in a resignated voice: "Why don't you stop playing games, I'm tired of them. Perhaps I've seen too much of this world and it's time for Death to die."

"How fitting, Death killed by Death." The vampire smiled a dangerous looking smile. "But someone as powerful as you deserves to know the real name of his last opponent, even if it won't do you any good. I am Godric and I will be your death."

The last words were mumbled against the skin of his neck, then the fangs struck again. Methos felt the vampire - Godric - press even closer to him, they were now touching from neck to toe. His wrists were still held in an iron grip, he had no chance to get away – not that he thought he’d get one. He got dizzy from blood loss, was held upright only by Godric's body. It felt surprisingly good. _'I'm not so sure any more that I want him gone when I revive, this isn't bad at all.'_ was Methos' last thought before he lost consciousness.


End file.
